


say hallelujah (say goodnight)

by tevinterr



Series: maybe it's time [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Gen, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevinterr/pseuds/tevinterr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there is a weariness in his voice that captures leliana by surprise — he seems too genuine, too sincere, too tired. slowly, reluctantly, she lowers her bow, still primed, to the ground in front of her before tilting her head and examining him carefully — the expression on her face never softens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	say hallelujah (say goodnight)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "if you get back in touch… if you talk to rose… just tell her— tell her I— oh, she knows."

leliana has never been one to back down from a fight — she is convicted in every sense of the word and though the chinks in the armor that is her faith show clear as day to anyone who took the time to look, she is still never one to falter.

still, as she stands at the foot of her camp, one hand resting on the mount she has just finished unsaddling, fingertips rough and toughened by years of pulling the string of her bow grazing smooth leather, she feels her heart skip a beat at the sight of him — she has found him.

a sliver of the moon is the only light as darkness clings to the starless sky like uncharted waters and not a soul in her camp is awake save for her and the figure before her, half lurking in the shadows beneath the trees — fresh pine at the forefront of autumn. he grips a mage staff and is still clothed in the robes he wore the day they watched the elder one fall. a victorious day, though all leliana could remember was the light in the inquisitor’s eyes, how they flickered like dying embers as she scanned the rubble and cracked concrete beneath a fallen archway before they were doused — cinders turning to ash.

“ _you_ ,” she hisses at the figure.

in one swift movement, she drops the saddle in her hands and draws the bow from her back, an arrow primed and pointed at the center of his chest — he doesn’t flinch, but as a subtle breeze, icy and crisp already for this time of year, bends the forest’s branches to its will to reveal his face, illuminated by what moonlight is left in the sky, she pauses again.

she glimpses the face of a man beaten once too many times by the world, eyes steely and unyielding, yet dark and lifeless — the calm after a hurricane when all that is left is the battered, destroyed remains of what once was, determination and purpose replacing hope as the only thing urging one foot in front of the other.

"try anything and I will put this arrow through you without so much as a thought," she says when she finds her voice again. " _solas._ ”

"do not test me, spymaster," solas replies calmly, his voice unwavering in the face of the drawn weapon before him. "I am not the man you knew back at skyhold nor will I hesitate to end this confrontation violently should you wish to strike."

leliana grits her teeth, the muscles in her jaw clenching as her brow furrows in anger. “my people and I have been searching for you for weeks and you  _dare_ —”

"with all due respect, I am not here looking for a fight," solas interrupts as he holds one hand up to silence her — she raises her elbow just slightly in response to the swift gesture, her bowstring stretched precariously taut.

"then what are you looking for, solas?" leliana asks, gaze piercing into his like the pointed tip of her arrow, her breathing controlled and steady like her hands. "you had something to do with corypheus and the orb, didn’t you? my spies tell me—"

"your spies have been moving in circles for days," solas relents with a sigh, shaking his head and leaning on his staff. "please lower your weapon, leliana. I have already told you I am not interested in a fight — I simply have a message I need you to deliver."

there is a weariness in his voice that captures leliana by surprise — he seems too genuine, too sincere, too tired. slowly, reluctantly, she lowers her bow, still primed, to the ground in front of her before tilting her head and examining him carefully — the expression on her face never softens.

_she stands over her desk on the top floor of the rotunda, a raven perched neatly on her shoulder waiting patiently as she shuffles pieces of parchment around to reveal a map of thedas littered with scribbles, marks, notes to herself, arrows pointing west. finally, she reaches up to remove the small note tied to the raven’s foot before it caws and flies off._

_she unravels the note carefully and without urgency — it will not contain anything she does not already know. they have not found him yet and his trail is getting harder and harder to follow._

_a loud crash echoes throughout the room’s high ceilings, silencing the consistent row like a thunderclap, eliciting loud gasps of surprise — she swears she can hear the book dorian must be reading slam shut in its wake. leliana quickly moves to the railing and peers down to scout out the source of the noise. others are quick to follow suit as her eyes fall to the wooden table on the very first floor, knocked over sideways in a sea of tossed aside tomes and ink._

_inquisitor lavellan stands at its side and looks up, her eyes meeting leliana’s from below — she is stone-faced, freckles on her nose and dark circles under her eyes stark against her skin, which seems much paler than usual. she is not crying — she is too exhausted to cry._

_leliana returns to her desk solemnly and scribbles a note to josephine and cullen —_

_'I am leaving,' she scrawls. 'I will return with him.'_

"come back to skyhold with me and deliver the message yourself," leliana says quietly to him.

in the darkness, she spies what she thinks is a smirk at his lips and hears what she believes is a chuckle at the back of his throat, pained and wistful. “would that I could,” he replies simply.

leliana goes silent for a moment — she has so many questions but knows him well enough to know she will not get the answers she is looking for. she should have known better than to allow anyone in the inquisition — much less the inquisitor — trust him so blindly. he was too convenient, too ready to help, too knowledgable.

yet something in the tone of his voice stays her bow and she relaxes her grip, begins tucking the arrow away in the quiver on her back. for a brief moment, she notes how alien the motion feels to her, how unfamiliar — she is not one to draw arrows she does not use.

she sighs. “you would leave her again? you would leave her with her anger?”

"I would leave her with armor," he says firmly.

leliana is silent again, considering his words carefully. finally, she crosses her arms tightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she glowers at him. “then leave.”

with that, she turns and begins making her way to her tent, surprised when she does not hear his footsteps behind her. then his voice calls out, shaky and unfamiliar, vulnerable in a way leliana has never heard him speak—

"when you see her again, spymaster," he says in earnest. "when you talk to the inquisitor, please tell her that— that I—"

"no." leliana’s interruption is short, abrupt and jarring — she does not stop walking until she reaches her tent.

"well. she knows."

"does she?" it is the last thing leliana says to him before disappearing into the darkness within her tent. she stands at the entrance, flaps closed behind her, and listens for him until she hears his footsteps drawing farther and farther from camp. with a heavy sigh, she carefully removes the quiver from her shoulders, and places it alongside her bow at the foot of her bedroll.

——————

the next morning, leliana sits at a small desk within her tent poring over a scrap of parchment, quill inked and poised purposefully in her hand.

_"I would leave her with armor."_

"no," she whispers to herself. "you would just leave her."

she begins to write, etching words into paper, letters like chainmail links in the hauberk that is her message:

> _inquisitor,_
> 
> _despite my efforts, I have been unable to locate solas…_


End file.
